


change your ticket

by vol6kiwi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Based on a One Direction Song, Drunk Harry Styles, Drunk Louis Tomlinson, Drunk larry, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Fluff, Larry Stylinson Is Real, M/M, One Direction Imagines, larries, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:08:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26229961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vol6kiwi/pseuds/vol6kiwi
Summary: “I don’t want you to leave.” Harry suddenly says, but Louis knows he doesn’t want him to. He sensed the feeling all night from him. “I really don’t want you to, Lou.” He adds, and it sounds like he’s complaining with a heavy heart. Harry has a sluggish lump in his throat, and he knows he shouldn’t get so upset because he’ll see him in less than a week, but the alcohol leaves hot tears in his eyes. Louis watches his boyfriend tear up (and he knows it’s the whiskey that’s made him do this), but he knows Harry is a naturally sensitive person, and felt like this even if it wasn’t the alcohol making him talk.“Hazza, it won’t be too long.” Louis says, feeling guilty as he tears a very intoxicated Harry sniffle. “I gotta do some work, but then we have another week together, right? Don’t be upset.” He adds as Harry puts his soapy head onto his shoulder.“I just miss you. A lot, Lou, and maybe I could still talk to them.” He murmurs, but Louis only offers a shrug and wipes his fiancé’s eyes. He grins gently and looks at Harry. “You can’t call them like this.” He whispers, then cups water in his hands to wash the soap out of his hair. “It’ll be okay. We still have tonight together.”
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 17





	change your ticket

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy this cute little oneshot i started writing a week ago and forgot about it—so i just finished it !!! enjoy <3

"You come here often?"

"No, just visiting."

Louis sips from a now empty whiskey sour, pushing the glass backwards towards the end of the bar. He's about to start his third (though he knows that him and alcohol have always been a strange mix) when he looks up at the owner of the low voice speaking to him. He plays with the straw in his glass as it hits against the sides, his eyes meeting the man's gaze. He was tall, but leaning against the bar, pale, with dark, short hair. His eyes were off-putting to a buzzed Louis, but he ignored his gut. "Visiting New Zealand?" The man asks and sticks out a hand to shake. Louis raises a brow. "Yeah." He says, eyes now closely watching the bartender take his drink for a refill. He meets the man's gaze again. "With my husband-to-be." He adds.

"Husband? Wouldn't see you as the 'settling down' type." The taller man says, taking a seat next to Louis. The boy, who's cheeks feel warm as the alcohol sets into his system, offers a smile. "Well, I am." He replies, then sends a quick "cheers" to the bartender, who sets down another glass of whiskey sour in front of him.

"Where is this man of yours?" The stranger asks. Louis rubs his eyes, the takes a sip of his beverage. He examines the man. His eyes are still off-putting. "Taking a wee." He says softly, breaking eye contact and looking to the window nearby. "He'll probably be back shortly." Louis adds, then looks back at him. "And if you don't mind, you've taken his seat-"

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind, _Louis Tomlinson_." The man interrupts. Louis turns red when he feels a hand move to his upper thigh, but he's not surprised the man knows him. "If he's just taking a wee." He points out, while Louis's eyes travel down to his hand, sitting there. Prying there. Adding pressure there. The whole situation begins to make him quite uncomfortable. He takes a hand and picks up the man's placing it at his side with a quick pat. "He will." Louis replies, feeling his head begin to swim. "He will mind. And I do too." He points out, however, his hand movements are sluggish. He's a lightweight and he knows it.

"I don't see this husband-to-be of yours." The dark-haired man protests, hands up in defense, then strokes his leg on Louis's left one, and suddenly, there that hand is again. All Louis can think of is how badly he wants this conversation to end, but he's drunk and he knows that he can't walk away from this one at the moment. He shifts sluggishly in his seat, takes another sip of his whiskey sour, and swipes at the man's hand. He wasn't exactly sober, so in result, he misses. He feels a firm grip on his wrist, which makes him jump in his chair.

"I don't see him at all."

"Then turn around, you prick."

The familiar voice sends Louis into a daze, because he can suddenly feel comfortable. His eyes shift up to his fiancé, who's green eyes meet his. They shift to the stranger who is frozen in his seat, quickly unhands Louis, and shuffles away. He watches every step the man takes to a small, crowded corner of the bar until he's out of eyesight. Louis moves his cramped wrist as the taller, jade-eyed boy takes a the seat next to him.

"What would I do without you, Harry?"

"Drink the night away, probably. Are you on your third?"

Harry offers a grin that showcases his dimples, cupping his boyfriend's check and leaning in for a quick kiss. Louis melts at his touch, half-grinning back, and closes the space between their lips for a moment. The kiss is short, but just enough for Louis to want to fall in love with him all over again. He nods in response to his question, skin feeling warm and personality bubbly. He blinks, then takes another sip from his halfway-empty glass. The taller boy calls the bartender over and orders a mojito in a tall glass, tipping, and shifting his gaze back to Louis, who is now beginning to finish off his third drink. "Slow down, Tommo," Harry chuckles, "I'm barely onto my second drink." He says as Louis begins to play with his straw again, turning towards him. "You're just slow." He shrugs.

"And you're a lightweight. Are you going to order another? At this rate we're going to have to call a cab." Harry responds as his drink is pushed towards him. He quickly thanks the bartender and sips on it. Louis only hums in response, then stirs the ice in his glass. "Yeah. I think I deserve it." He says lightly, leaning into his fiancé's side, placing his head on his shoulder. He loves how comfortable Harry has always fit as a pillow. "You do. It is your last night, after all." Harry points out, stirring his drink.

Louis groans lightly. "Don't remind me, Harry. I don't want to go back to LA." He whines, earning a quiet, low laugh from his boyfriend. "I wanna be with you." He adds, kissing his cheek as the bartender places another whiskey sour in front of him before he notices. He mixes his drink as Harry, raising a brow, smiles at him. "I know you do. That's why I told you to change your ticket, Lou." He replies, locking his fingers in Louis's.

"You know I can't." Louis sluggishly tries to roll his eyes, pulling away from Harry and taking a sip from his fourth drink. "Syco's got all of this shit going on. I can't miss anything before I put this album out." He complains. Harry nods. "I know. You've been working really hard. Maybe I can talk to them." He says softly, rubbing his thumb onto the back of his hand. Louis shrugs. "Maybe. Remember you left Syco, though." He says, looking into Harry's eyes.

Harry also shrugs, leaving that part of the conversation as it was. He would much after enjoy the time he had with Louis, rather than talking about work on vacation. He breaks eye contact and sips at his drink, watching his fiancé flatly examine him with glazed eyes. The silence reminds him of a time from long ago, maybe back to the X-Factor house, where Louis would sit on the opposite end of the couch and stare at him for hours on end. Harry misses a time like then. The two were young and free, famous but not too famous, and weren't too deep into it, but still knew each other intimately. They've come so far from then, Harry turning twenty-five a month ago and Louis twenty-seven. Harry has put out an album, while Louis a couple of singles. They build each other up and support each other through their careers---and Harry has never felt so content with himself in years.

"You're doing that thing again." He says, smiling at a clearly drunk Louis, who snaps out of his daze. Harry finds it adorable when he hums in response. "Hmm? What thing?" The older boy asks in response.

"That thing when you're drunk." Harry gestures with his hand, then finishing off his second mojito. Louis leans on him again. "No idea what you're talking about, Hazza, but you do make a comfortable pillow." He responds, then reaches for his glass, which he finishes off rather quickly, deciding he's done for the night, knowing he's already drunk as it is. Harry laughs, orders a water, and runs a hand through Louis's hair. "You wanna get out of here?" The curly haired boy questions, "You can barely sit upright." He points out. Louis settles his head next to Harry's neck and hums. "Yeah. Let's go." He slurs, as Harry, who unlike Louis, can handle his alcohol quite well, stands up and helps him out of the seat. He pays for the drinks they've bought, then slings an arm around him, beginning to walk to the front of the bar. Louis glances back and waves sluggishly to the bartender, leaving Harry fighting back a fit of laughter.

When the boys make it outside, the cold biting each of their noses and turning them pink, Harry calls a cab while Louis says something about wanting to take a shower. The pair waits as a black cab slowly pulls up. Harry leans Louis against the car as he opens he door, then ushers him into the backseat. The older boy sits quickly and leans against the window. "You have wonderful winter clothes." He gushes as Harry climbs into the seat next to him. "And you always look wonderful, Lou." He responds as his he feels his boyfriend's head on his shoulder, one of his hands playing with Harry's curly locks.

Harry gives the cab driver the address of their hotel before watching his fiancé doze off onto his side. Even in the dark, he admired his boyfriend. Every feature he adored in amazing detail, as well as every memory he carried with him. Nights like these give him that young and free feeling again, even though its been years since its been that way. He loves having no limits, especially being someone who constantly acts on impulsive decisions. He watched Auckland's city lights make Louis's peaceful face glow, a small smile spreading across his face. He loved everything about him, and had for over nine years. The way he twitched or the way he moved sometimes in his sleep, the way he laughed, the way his talent reflected on who he was and not what others wanted him to be---Louis Tomlinson was the most perfect and important person in his life, intoxicated or not.

Harry recalls days of reflection he'd had through his relationship with Louis. Having to keep it a secret for the longest time had bothered him. He somehow still felt content as long as he was with Louis. He still does, even being out to the public. Of course, the two have lost fans because of their relationship---but he always admired that Louis, every single time it's mentioned, responds with six words:

_You win some, you lose some._

At the end of the day, Harry's going to let the fans believe in what they wanted to, whether it was supporting the pair or not. He knows there's nothing he can do to change their opinions. He's just happy to be out and with his fiancé.

Harry snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the cab pull to a slow stop in the front of their hotel. He quickly rubs Louis's shoulder in an attempt to wake him. "Lou, we're here." He says, watching Louis pick his head up and open his eyes, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He can barely make out words with sleep and alcohol running through his system expect a quiet hum. Harry climbs out of the car and helps his inebriated fiancé out, quickly slipping a hand around his waist. Louis grins as he stumbles compared to Harry's neat pace.

"What're you grinning at, Lou?" Harry raises his brows and offers a warm, humorous smile. He watches Louis think of an answer as if he can read his mind, his boyfriend cracking an even wider grin. "You're such a dad, Hazza." He slurs softly, leaning his head onto his shoulder as he walks, breaking into a rushed fit of laughs. Harry only jokingly rolls his eyes, grinning at him. "Because I love you, Lou."

"That's _sweet_ , love." Louis sluggishly kisses his cheek twice as they enter the hotel lobby. "Love you, Harry." He murmurs, leaving Harry with a smile. He walks Louis into the lobby and to into a cramped elevator halfway full with tourists of Auckland. Two were drunk, much like Louis, leaning on their lovers' shoulders, smiling and muttering about. Louis's warmth on Harry's neck makes his cheeks red as he nods to a couple exiting the elevator, then reaching out his hand to push a button to the third floor. Another sober partner in the elevator immediately recognizes him. "You're Harry Styles, right?" The man asks, his eyes shifting from a very intoxicated Louis to him. "And," he points his finger to his boyfriend, "Louis Tomlinson?" He adds, to which Harry nods.

"Quite a night, huh?" Harry smiles, "This one's had a bit too much to drink." He says, even though he's not exactly sober either. Louis is about to protest, but is too comfortable leaning into his boyfriend. The man across from him chuckles and points his thumb towards his partner. "Same with her." He responds as Harry's eyes shift to the woman leaning into the corner. She's not listening in on the conversation, much like Louis, but in her own daze. "It's nice to meet you, Harry. My daughter's a huge fan. Of you both, I mean." He points out. Harry cracks a grin.

"Tell her we said hello, then." Louis interjects. "We could get a video, you know, Harry." He adds, taking his head off of his fiancé's shoulder. "Not sure that's a good idea right now, Lou." Harry snakes an arm around his waist to balance him again. "When do you two leave?" He turns to the man again. 

"Tomorrow morning."

"No kidding, eh?" Louis smiles, "Me too. Where are you headed to?" He asks, sluggishly blinking, which Harry finds adorable. Then again, he finds his intoxicated boyfriend interjecting adorable, too. Harry watches as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open on floor two. The man balances his wife. "Doncaster, back home." He says. Louis's face lights up and he grins. "Hey! I live there. Well, that's where I come from. You hear that Harry?" He slurs, getting so excited that Harry has to steady his hand around him. "I'm from that place. Nice, isn't it?" He adds slowly, earning a nod from the man, who just smiles. "Yeah, really nice. Hey, well, this is our stop. Maybe we'll get a picture before we leave tomorrow if we run into you two?" He says, beginning to steady his wife out of the elevator. Louis beams at him sluggishly. "Yes! Yes, definitely. Harry, we just have to." He turns to Harry, putting a slow, flirtatious hand onto his chest. Harry blushes, responding with a nod. "Definitely. You two take care." He says to the couple that exits through the doors. The man gives a small wave, and the door shuts, leaving Harry and Louis alone.

"Small world, Hazza." Louis murmurs, grinning like a fool. Harry smiles in response. "Small world, Lou. You're so friendly." He says, running a hand through his dark hair. "He's from Doncaster," The older boy slurs in reply, melting at Harry's touch. "Of course I'm going to be friendly." He adds, leaning further into him as the elevator moves upward. Harry gently nods, pulling him closer and connecting the space between their lips for a split second. The kiss is very short and Harry can taste the whiskey on his lips, but he still enjoys it sweetly. Louis pulls away after a moment as Harry then kisses his hair when the doors slide open. 

Harry reels him in closer and supports his weight out of the elevator, Louis murmuring remarks Harry isn't focused on hearing as they make their way down a long hall to their hotel room. Harry reaches in his pocket as Louis slings an arm around his neck and pulls out their room key, moving it in front of the sensory lock and opening the door. When he starts to help his boyfriend to the bedroom, Louis stops. "I'm not tired, Hazza. Can we sit on the couch?" He complains, but asks very politely for being as intoxicated as he is. Because it's not super late, Harry nods and starts towards the direction of the sofa in their suite. He helps Louis onto the couch and sits next to him, his husband-to-be sitting up after a moment of silence. He leans in a kisses Harry on the lips, and unlike the many others from the night, this one is full of passion. Before he slips his tongue into Harry's mouth, deepening the space between them. Louis pulls away and begins to kiss the taller boy's jawline, running a hand up his thigh that nearly drives Harry mad. However, before he can do anything else, Harry speaks softly.

"Are you sure you want to do this right now, Lou?" He asks, but he's in the mood too and he knows it. Harry follows his eyes as they think. Louis sits back, taking his hand off of him. "You're right." He murmurs, leaving Harry to raise his brows in confusion. "I'm right? What am I right about?" He asks with a chuckle as Louis raises his eyebrows in a mocking manner.

"You're not drunk enough."

"What?"

"We should play a drinking game."

Harry laughs gently, swallowing at the suggestion. "You don't need anymore alcohol tonight, Lou." He says, watching his boyfriend crack a grin that brings out his dimples. "Then you'll just play. Grab that bottle of whiskey by the mini fridge." He suggests, then demands. Harry looks at him like he's joking, sits back against the couch, and stares at him. But with the look his drunk fiancé is giving him, Harry realizes he's dead serious. He stands up and chuckles. "Now this is a funny way of you getting into my pants." He says, walking to the counter and reaching for the crystal glass of whiskey and a shot cup. He sets it on the coffee table as Louis watches his every move, surprising for his drunken state. 

"Rules?" Harry asks, however, he knows what they'll be. Louis sluggishly leans in and places his hand on Harry again. Harry flushes red as it moves to his upper thigh, but he knows Louis is just trying to be a tease. "I ask you a question, Hazza, and if you get it wrong, you take a shot." He responds, lips a millimeter away from his. When Harry leans in, he leans back, which Harry protests at, rolling his eyes. "Sounds good. Questions about what?"

"Whatever I want."

"That's quite unfair."

"You should've figured that out by now, Haz."

Harry nods because he knows he deserves a little fun. In fact, he hasn't been full-on drunk in a straight month since he began writing his album. He feels safe with Louis to do so. He lets out a long sigh. "Then let's go ahead and play this game, right? You're such a tease." He says, watching Louis lean into his ear and a smirk form onto his lips. Harry can smell his cologne, the alcohol on him, everything. It's surprisingly refreshing.

"I'm going to get you hammered." Louis whispers into his ear, making Harry blush, but it doesn't take much for him to do so. Louis always poked at him, sober or not. He takes his hand off of Harry's thigh. "First question," He says, leaning onto the other side of the couch. "What is the smallest city in South America?"

Harry scoffs playfully. "What? You're asking questions I don't know the answers to on purpose. Ask a different one." He demands, crossing one leg over the over on the velvety sofa.

"I'm sorry, did you make the rules? No. Answer the question, Harry." Louis responds, raising a brow, pointing at his chest sluggishly. Harry shrugs and laughs. "I don't know that one." He cracks a grin that showcases the sparkle in his jade-green eyes. He looks like he's been exposed when his boyfriend then points his finger to the whiskey. "Then drink, you dummy." He says, and Harry knows exactly his intentions from here on out, but at the same time, he doesn't mind them.

"So I'm a dummy for not knowing the smallest city in South America?"

"Yes you are, Hazza, now follow the rules." 

Harry shrugs and pours the alcohol into the shot cup. Because he holds his alcohol quite well for being the youngest, the two mojitos seem to have no effect on him as he throws his head back, swallowing the whiskey. It tastes like ginger and nail polish remover had a love child, burning his throat and turning it to fire, but he likes the way it makes his cheeks feel warm. Louis claps his hands three times. "Now that's what I like to see. See? This is fun!" He excitedly says.

"Can I get a kiss, then? To make it more fun?" Harry suggests, but Louis shakes his head. "No. Not until you're piss-drunk with a leg hanging off the sofa." He responds, Harry just sighing. "Fine. What's the next question?" 

...

The questions continue until Harry has taken six shots (and a swig of a bottle of vodka). He's much more intoxicated than Louis, laughing at every question thrown at him next. The familiar warm feeling circulating through his blood makes him feel sluggish and strangely upbeat as Louis has moved many inches closer to him. Harry's mind is swimming, the weight of his body feeling heavier than usual as he tosses his head to the side. 

"Oh, Harry," Louis says with a gentle laugh, "you really are piss-drunk now." Louis has slung his right leg over Harry's, playing with the pant leg of his jeans. Harry rubs his eyes, putting his shot glass sluggishly down onto the coffee table. He sits up and eyes him, feeling Louis’s familiar hand slide up his thigh.

”Stop being such a tease.”

”You know I can’t help it, you’re just so sensitive.”

Louis leans in. “Especially when you’ve had too much to drink.” He nearly whispers, but loud enough for Harry to hear, watching his boyfriend crack a smile. The older boy feels his cheek, which is hot and red, the tone Harry becomes when he’s drunk and reckless. Harry melts in his touch, but protests when Louis pulls away.   
  


”See what I mean?” Harry complains, sluggishly leaning back to put his head on a velvet pillow. The next words come out incredibly warm, slow, and slurred as he points a finger at him. “You’re such—such a tease, fucking hell, Lou, how many questions do we have to go through to get you to—”

This is when Louis leans forward and connects the space between them. He pulls his fiancé’s face into his, both tasting the alcohol on each other’s lips. Harry sits up, but Louis forcefully pushes him down again, leaving Harry with the wind knocked out of him. He’s always loved how rough Louis is when they’re both sluggish and drunk, how he tastes, how he moves. He knows this game because they play it all the time.   
  


Harry feels his tongue in Louis’s, biting his bottom lip enough to draw blood. Louis has got him pinned on the sofa as he climbs over him. He tugs on his button-up shirt as he presses kisses to his jawline and down to his neck, stroking his upper thigh. Harry’s breath hitches as he messes with the buttons, but he can tell Louis is now impatient, beginning to unbutton the shirt himself and throwing it across the suite, making the younger boy chuckle.   
  


“Oh, fuck off-” Louis pants as he takes off his own shirt, leaning back in and kissing his lips again. Harry has also always loved the way he talked when he was impatient. The older boy climbs farther atop of Harry, his hand brushing against his boyfriend’s abdomen, but moving up to cheek, and Harry is about to complain, but a light moan leaves him instead as Louis leaves a “love-bite” to his neck. He always knows his sensitive spots.   
  


He always knew how to surprise him.

... 

When they’re finished, it’s late, laying nude on the sofa together, both covered in a blanket. Louis has always been a talker, even after they’ve fucked, while Harry begins dozing off to the sound of his voice. He thinks about, despite the fact that he’s nowhere near from sober, he finds himself wanting to capture the moments from an hour ago again and again. He loves how he’s beginning to feel sore in his legs and abdomen—what what could he say? They both liked rough sex, especially with alcohol making their minds swim.

For a moment, Harry has almost forgotten that Louis leaving for L.A. tomorrow. Their weekend in New Zealand had been filled to the brink with as much love as they possibly could’ve filled it with—but Harry found himself wanting more. He didn’t want this fiancé to leave, and he most certainly didn’t want to be in New Zealand alone for the next day after that.   
  


“Hazza? You listening?”

Harry snaps open his eyes. “Hmm? Yeah. Listening.” He responds sleepily. Louis cracks a grin. He absolutely adored when his boyfriend remained tired, both sober or not.

  
“I asked if you wanted a bath.” Louis says gently, running his fingers through Harry’s messy curls. He watches him ponder over the thought for a straight minute—but can’t tell if he’s dozing off again. An exhausted Harry just nods sleepily. Louis sits up, then stands (surprising for the amount of alcohol he’s consumed that night, but he was great at sobering up quite quickly). He offers his hand to Harry, who takes it and leans into his boyfriend. He tries to keep from stumbling as they walk to the bathroom, but his feet trip up twice, leaving a sleepy blush on his cheeks when Louis chuckles.   
  


Because both are already nude, Louis instructs Harry to sit on the ground of the tub as he turns on the warm water. He watches it fill the bathtub as they stare at each other, a foolish, lovesick look in their eyes. Harry watches Louis climb into the tub after turning the water off. It’s warm and makes Harry feel quite breathless as they both lay at the end of the wall. Louis strokes Harry’s dark curls, massaging soap into them, while Harry murmurs on about how much he loves him.   
  


“I don’t want you to leave.” Harry suddenly says, but Louis knows he doesn’t want him to. He sensed the feeling all night from him. “I _really_ don’t want you to, Lou.” He adds, and it sounds like he’s complaining with a heavy heart. Harry has a sluggish lump in his throat, and he knows he shouldn’t get so upset because he’ll see him in less than a week, but the alcohol leaves hot tears in his eyes. Louis watches his boyfriend tear up (and he knows it’s the whiskey that’s made him do this), but he knows Harry is a naturally sensitive person, and felt like this even if it wasn’t the alcohol making him talk. 

“Hazza, it won’t be too long.” Louis says, feeling guilty as he tears a very intoxicated Harry sniffle. “I gotta do some work, but then we have another week together, right? Don’t be upset.” He adds as Harry puts his soapy head onto his shoulder. 

“I just miss you. A lot, Lou, and maybe I could still talk to them.” He murmurs, but Louis only offers a shrug and wipes his fiancé’s eyes. He grins gently and looks at Harry. “You can’t call them like this.” He whispers, then cups water in his hands to wash the soap out of his hair. “It’ll be okay. We still have tonight together.”

An unsatisfied Harry just nods and wipes his eyes as he feels warm water travel down his neck. Once his hair is nice and clean, Louis snatches a towel from above the toilet and helps him out, wrapping it around Harry’s waist and pulling him in for a hug once he’s covered, too. It’s warm and Louis has to hold him tightly so he doesn’t lean backwards, but it’s full of a love that exists.

”Let’s brush our teeth and get you into bed, yeah?” Louis suggests. Harry just nods, a small, drunk smile on his lips. Louis kisses them quickly and leads him to the vanity, and they brush their teeth. He supports Harry’s side and they both pull on their boxers. Louis is the first to climb into bed, feeling the other end dip when he feels Harry’s breath on his neck. 

It doesn’t take long from them to whisper their “I love you” ‘s and for Harry to doze off. Soon, Harry is snorting quietly as Louis massages his curls.   
  


...

When Harry wakes up, he reaches his arm over, but feels the cold sheets. He lets out a sigh, feeling a headache in his lower forehead. His body is sore and tired, and the worst part is—Louis isn’t there. 

Harry swallows and sits up, squinting at the sun that peeks through the grey curtains. He throws his legs over the bed, rubbing his eyes and a hand through his messy, dark hair, his thoughts setting in that he had five days until he could see his one love again, the one thing that kept his world rotating (that and his music). He walks over to a long mirror on the wall across from the door, examining himself.

He looks like he’s been through hell. A part of him wishes he hadn’t gotten so drunk last night, but the other part of him remembers the sex, and he chuckles to himself, shaking his head. His hair is a complete mess, clusters of hickeys on the side of his neck, jawline, and abdomen. He thinks back to that moment: his head had been swimming and he was so thick in intoxication that he could hardly lift it, but his one focus was Louis, and Louis only.

He longed for moments like that to last forever. 

Harry decided he’d be better off making a cup of tea rather than being so down that Louis is gone, so that’s exactly what he goes to do. He opens the bedroom door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. When he walks to the kitchen, he sets the suite’s kettle on, grabbing the box of Louis’s favorite tea he’d most likely left for him, and picks a teabag. 

It’s not long before the kettle begins it’s rhythmic, familiar hiss. Harry takes it and pours a cup, placing the teabag in. He bends down to the mini-fridge and opens it.

”I used the rest of the milk, but I figured we could go for a cup instead.”

The voice nearly makes Harry yelp, but it’s so familiar and real that he is almost scared to turn around. But he does, and what he sees makes him grin.

”Was just takin’ a wee, and now you’ve already finished the kettle?” Louis cracks a smile, and his heart is melted by Harry’s shocked expression. Harry walks forward and embraces the older boy tightly, while Louis brings a hand to his hair, kissing it gently.

“I thought you were leaving, Lou.” Harry murmurs excitedly into his shoulder, a grin plastered on his face. Louis presses a kiss to his lips, a taste he missed with the hour Harry had been sleeping before he’d woken up.

”I pulled a few strings. I couldn’t leave without you.” Louis responds when he pulls away, but Harry kisses his in response—and it’s nothing like last night. It’s still passionate, but less rough and more gentle, a less rugged love. Louis just melts at Harry’s touch when he pulls away and continues to embrace him—because this is all they need: an embrace, a kiss, and each other.

”Thank you for changing your ticket for me.” Harry says, still embracing the smaller boy, because he’s wanted this. He’s wanted this the whole trip—and it feels so different and good. He loves knowing Louis would risk his job for him, no matter how selfish that sounded. He knew Louis didn’t mind doing so, either.

”I love you, Haz.”

”I love you, too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> make sure to follow my twitter @kiwivol6_ for one direction content <3 i love you all !!


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